


Timely interruption

by 221bCupOfTeaAndSherlock



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Accidents, Awkward Flirting, Cleaning, Desperation, Embarrassment, Erections, Fetish, Greg is Sweet, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, Office, Omorashi, Showers, Suit Kink, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 07:00:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17803238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221bCupOfTeaAndSherlock/pseuds/221bCupOfTeaAndSherlock
Summary: Mycroft allows himself a naughty indulgence, after a long afternoon, with the decision to give up his usual fastidiousness in favour of enacting a recent fantasy and deliberately wetting himself.Greg Lestrade then makes a most timely interruption leaving Mycroft in quite the predicament with an increasingly wet lap and no escape...





	Timely interruption

**Author's Note:**

> It's taken me ages to finish this as it just didn't seem right in its initial draft, and in honestly still now sure, but I just had to get Mycroft to wet his impeccable suits at least once xD any feedback is exceedingly welcome! Hope you enjoy :)

Mycroft Holmes stood in the office of his suite in the Diogenes club and stretched out his arms, rocking on the balls of his feet, after an extended phone call that had kept him in his chair for nearing 6 hours. His lunchtime cup of tea and glass of water had been steadily filtering into his bladder throughout the phone call and he was nearing the point of being desperate enough to excuse himself when the conversation had begun to draw to a close. That had been over an hour ago but he’d continued to wait until he was able to suitably end the call. He had decided during a lull in the phone call to act upon his more popular fantasy of releasing his bladder into his chair. Normally fastidious in his hygiene and dress, his desperate desire to soak himself and his clothes in his own urine was overwhelmingly arousing. He also decided that doing so at the end of the phone call would be prudent to allow him to clean himself and the chair promptly to minimise damage or risk of discovery.

Suitable stretched and allowing his hand to gently squeeze himself in his need he settled back into his chair and relaxed, feeling the first beads of urine blooming out into his boxer shorts. Soon a light trickle, he saw the first spots of wetness on his trousers.

Knock knock.

He tensed quickly to stem the flow. 

“Yes?” he called, hoping that it would prove a short interruption, wondering briefly if it was just some sensitive correspondence being delivered.

The door swung open and Greg Lestrade strode over the threshold. Mycroft was a little startled but smoothed his features into a curt smile before the DI’s eyes had even found his face.

“Ahh Mr Holmes, sorry to barge in, I just need a word about Sherlock’s involvement in one of my cases, if you’ve got a minute?”

Mycroft cursed silently. His need more pressing now that he'd started.

“Of course, please” he gestured to a chair, his bladder a pressing weight that made him want to groan. He schooled his features and rationalised that it was not as pressing a concern as he thought and he would be more that capable of making it through what would surely be a straightforward conversation with his brother’s favoured DI without further wetting.

“It was just a concern I had really, the original information was that it was a domestic killing, pretty straightforward, then it turned out the only suspect had an indisputable alibi and, well truth be told, it had been a long day and we’d got a lot on so I called Sherlock in, and”

Mycroft really did try to focus his attention on the detective’s words but his bladder spasmed and he had to jiggle his leg and clench his muscles to regain control. He mentally scolded himself for being so distracted by something so insignificant and tried to refocus.

“And then he starts mouthing off to the witness about how ridiculously imbecilic they had been and now they’ve withdrawn their statement and the CPS is ready to crucify me, so…”

He tried, he really did, but the intensity of his burning need was very tangibly worse by the second and he just couldn’t do more than process the odd word as the reality of his situation dawned on him. He could more beads of urine leaking slowly but surely into the damp, soft cotton of his underwear. His fight to remain calm and collected had diverted his attention and now he was literally unable to move without spilling over, with a person well acquainted with his brother sat a few metres away. His face paled.

“Mycroft?” Greg said, louder than before.  
“Hmm?” He could feel perspiration building on his forehead and the bridge of his nose and he shifted his leg to alter the pressure and press a palm to the end of his cock as surreptitiously as he could.

“You alright mate? You seem a bit… tense. Is this a bad time?” Greg leans forward in his seat looking earnestly at Mycroft.

“I.. ah” He falters with a panic as a fair spurt of urine escapes his cock and blooms wet through his boxers and suit trousers. He now curses his choice of grey suit. He is now unable to move without a rather obvious wet patch coming level with Greg’s face, and the thought sends a jolt of pain through his protesting bladder, forcing him to hunch.

“Look, I can just go and get someone-”

“No! Please I… I just.” He groans as another spurt leaks out and he’s sure the next will be impossible to stop and he’ll be flooding the plush leather office chair and one of his favourite suits in much less than favourable circumstances. His fantasy fairly ruined by this point.

Greg falters, he’s never seen Mycroft anything less than incredibly composed and haughty and he’s genuinely unsure how to react. His policing instinct to take control leads him to stand swiftly, moving round the desk to check him over. Its as he drops one knee to the floor to draw level with Mycroft's slightly hunched form that he sees the sizeable wet patch on the usually immaculate mans trousers.

“Hey, you’re alright, I’ll help you to the loo okay, you probably just have an infection or something, need to get you checked over.” Greg’s voice is soft and soothing, his well practiced tone for dealing with those who are in need of help from a kind and gentle policeman. He instinctively places his hand on Mycroft’s arm giving it a gentle rub. He tries to ignore the odd pang of desire at seeing this man so disheveled as he loses control of himself.

Mycroft's face and neck goes scarlet as he realises he can’t meet the DI’s soft blue eyes. He can’t move without wetting himself quite completely, the best course of action at this point is to get Greg to leave and quickly.

“Please, I’m more than capable… I just…” He can’t get his words out, his urine a steady trickle in his pants.

“Don’t worry about it, just relax and go,no need to hurt yourself. Nothing that can’t be cleaned up eh?” Greg swallows as he feels his cock harden at the sight of a flushed Mycroft with a wet crotch, the centre of which was glistening with the gentle release of piss. His piss kink he realises is wide awake and he’s desperately hoping that Mycroft isn’t finding this experience too painful and embarrassing because he’s really rather enjoying it.

Mycroft let out a moan at Greg’s words and gave in to the inevitable, flooding his trousers in a fast flood, hands gripping his knees. Soon a gentle patter was heard as the urine dripped gently onto the rug below his chair. As the pressure in his bladder subsided the reality of the situation snapped into Mycroft’s brain. He steeled himself to meet Greg’s eyes and was surprised to find the DI’s eyes locked onto his crotch, his hand still rubbing Mycroft’s arm gently. A gentle cough from Mycroft had Greg’s eyes snapping back up to meet his and the arousal on his face took Mycroft aback a little and to his embarrassment, caused his soaking cock to give a twitch.

“Erm, I take it one of these doors leads to a loo? Do you keep any clothes here or anything” Greg rambles on quickly, embarrassed at being caught staring. As utterly embarrassed as Mycroft is he is undeniably excited by the reaction from the lovely DI knelt before him and he calms slightly at the thought that Greg wasn’t running off to ask Sherlock why his brother was wetting himself like a child.

“Ah yes” Mycroft makes to get up, trying to assess the damage to his chair. Greg stands quickly and Mycroft catches sight of the rather prominent bulge in Greg’s trousers and a moan is escaping his lips before he can stop himself.

“Hey take it easy, you okay? Come on I’ll help you to the loo” Greg misinterprets the noise with a concerned look, his face flushed too.

“I… I’m fine,” He can’t bring himself to admit that his accident was not the result of an illness and not, in fact, an accident at all. Well not initially at least.

He stands and becomes aware of his own erection tenting his wet trousers. Greg’s eyes drop, then shoot quickly back up.

“Erm… right, bathroom?”

“Door on the right” Mycroft replied, tilting his head in indication.

Greg moved swiftly across the room and swung open the door to reveal a small tiled bathroom, containing a toilet, sink and a glass doored shower cubicle. It was a tasteful blend of traditional decor and modern facilities. Mycroft stepped in and then turned back to the detective unsure what to say or do next.

“Can I get you… do you keep any clothes here? I could get you some if not?”

“Ah yes, there is a small bedroom through the other door, there are clothes in the wardrobe.” Mycroft explained.

“I'll grab you some thing to change into, give you chance to freshen up.”

Greg moved away before Mycroft could tell him that he could quite easily put on a robe and retrieve the clothing himself after freshening up but in all honestly he was quite intrigued by the DI's willingness to stay and help. The arousal on both sides had not been missed.

He undressed quickly, hanging the dry jacket, waistcoat and shirt on the hook and slipping of his shoes and socks and peeling his wet, clinging trousers down his thighs. He placed the rolled up, soiled clothing into a plastic bag he retrieved from the cabinet beneath the sink and started the shower running.

Greg meanwhile was stood, between the open wardrobe doors trying to choose a suitable pair of trousers and willing his straining erection to dissipate. It simply twitched in defiance. What he had just witnessed had surpassed any and all fantasies involving either piss or Mycroft and Greg just couldn't get himself together. He wasn't entirely sure that Mycroft did even enjoy it, as it must have been accidental and at any rate it didn't give him the right to be painfully hard whilst trying to help out.

He grabbed the necessary clothing and made his way back to the bathroom, the door of which was shut, but hearing the shower he eased it open just wide enough to place the pile beside the sink and grab the small hand towel from the hook. He pulled the door to, trying and failing to keep the image of a showering Mycroft from his mind, and went back over the the desk. He mopped up the puddle on the chair with efficiency and and then moved round the desk to perch on the arm of the leather sofa that stood before the desk. He wanted to make sure that Mycroft was okay before he left.

Mycroft appeared five minutes later; fresh, clean and dry. His face pink, from a mixture of hot water and embarrassment.

“Thank you, Detective Inspector, my sincerest apologies for…” Mycroft faltered, completely unsure of what to say.

“Greg and it's no trouble, you're brother's done much worse” Greg gave a nervous laugh.

“I'm sure, all the same I… your help was appreciated.” As they finally met each others eyes Mycroft had to bite his lip to stop from making a noise at the DI's blown pupils that he expected rather mirrored his own.

“Anytime,” Greg winked and smiled quite openly as a small grin graced Mycroft's features. He made his way to the door. Mycroft followed and pulled the door open to allow Greg to step through. Just as he made to close it the detective turned.

“Don't suppose you fancy a catch up over dinner? Maybe Friday night?” Greg bit his lip, his nerves having returned, not sure whether he was completely missing the mark.

“That would be very agreeable, goodnight… Gregory”.


End file.
